An English In Kentucky


















December 15th 2010    Tim Candler

    There will be narrative in the next few days.   This narrative is dictated by weather forecasters.  And I am like a mental patient who thinks there is a toy in the television set.

   Their winter storm warning suggests a combination of snow, sleet, freezing rain and rain.  Most ominous is "..a significant coating of ice on power lines...trees...and other susceptible surfaces is likely."

    Ancestors of my own age might have seen the red sky this morning, smelled the air, yelled at urchins trying to throw snowballs, and then gone about their business of stoking the fires and trying to remember what happened yesterday.  

     Sometimes I think I know why some are persuaded that the world will end, or somehow change on the short day two years from now. 

    They look into cycles of time determined by the movement of stars and decide there is a pattern that reflects in us.   My own understanding of this ancient idea follows a universal consciousness.  Which means we are the experience of matter made complicated by the expression or form we wake up in.

      It is not a complicated idea and every two minutes there is no interruption from a person selling pills or insurance or legal services or some other Christmas cheer.  

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